Closing One Chapter, Opening Another: Finding Purpose After the Military

For some, the transition out of the military is smooth. They choose when to close that chapter. For others, the door is slammed shut for reasons outside their control.

In my case, I saw the military rapidly changing—making things easier, watering down selection processes, and shifting priorities. After competing at the highest level of combat shooting, representing the United Kingdom, and earning my place as one of the best marksmen across all UK forces, I wasn’t willing to settle for less.

The Shooting Team: A Standard of Excellence

The shooting team was a breath of fresh air in the military. We were treated like adults, and leadership actually listened—regardless of rank. Selection was brutal, and staying on the team was even harder.

Out of the 20 guys I started with, only three remained by the time I left. It was a revolving door—one bad performance, one missed shot, and you were returned to your unit. But that’s what made it great: The standard was high, and you had to earn your spot every single day.

The Rifles Regiment: A Legacy of Precision and Adaptability

For me, being in the Rifles Regiment and on the shooting team wasn’t just about competing—it was about embodying the mindset of the Chosen Men, like the legendary Sharpe, and the rifleman of the 95th Rifles.

The Rifles Regiment was not like any other regiment in the British Army. The original Rifles under Wellington were a breed apart from the traditional redcoat regiments. They were the first to adopt unconventional tactics—incorporating skirmishing and working as marksmen, often in pairs, using terrain and cover to take out enemy leadership.

Unlike the line infantry, who fought in rigid formations, the Rifles were adaptable and independent, using their initiative to exploit weaknesses in the enemy’s position.

What set the Rifles apart was not just their use of the Baker rifle, which offered superior accuracy compared to the smoothbore muskets used by other regiments, but also their innovative tactics and the pride they took in being exceptional marksmen.

This mentality continued in modern times with the Rifles Regiment, where marksmanship, intelligence, and skill were the main qualities valued above all else. The shooting team was a continuation of that legacy—a specialized unit with a focus on excellence.

We had freedom most troops could only dream of. While others barely saw the range a few times a year, we were there daily, running grueling march-and-shoot drills, pushing ourselves to be better, and striving to be the best shots the UK had to offer.

The End of an Era

But the military was changing. The shooting team was changing.

After being told we would no longer be a separate unit in Aldershot and were instead being moved to a tank unit, I knew my time was up. The once elite, focused team I had given my all to was being diluted. The relaxed atmosphere and emphasis on shooting excellence were eroding, replaced by stricter oversight and shifting priorities.

No great deployments were on the horizon, and I didn’t want to be part of what the unit was becoming. So, I made the choice before the military could make it for me. I walked away on my terms.

The Reality of Leaving

And that’s the hard part about leaving. It’s not just about losing the job, the structure, or the uniform. It’s about losing the thing that made you you—the high standards, the elite competition, the challenge of a lifetime.

At first, leaving can taste like freedom.

• No more forced marches carrying 60kg of kit on your back through the dead of night on no sleep.

• No more lying in a freezing, flooded shell scrape with nothing but a damp bivvy bag.

• No more 2 a.m. orders to pack your life into a bergen and be ready to move within minutes.

• No more leadership decisions that made no sense.

• No more blanket punishments.

• No more missing family milestones.

• No more relentless discipline for things like a crease in your pants or missing a hair that was supposed to be shaved.

• No more endless days where exhaustion was your only certainty.

But it also meant a loss of meaning. A loss of camaraderie. A loss of friends. A loss of playing a role in something far more significant than yourself.

You go from taking a helicopter to work to sitting in never-ending traffic filled with people who could never understand the difference.

You lose the challenge of a lifetime.

At first, it felt great. Then, over time, it gets tougher.

• You start to miss things more.

• You start to miss those moments where you were kicking doors or dropping out of helicopters.

• You start to miss the structure, the purpose, the edge.

• And if you’re not careful, you start to drift, feeling like your worth was tied to what you used to do rather than who you are now.

How to Move Forward

So how do you deal with this? How do you move forward?

1. Find a New Challenge

The military forces you to push yourself every day. If you don’t replace that challenge, you’ll feel lost.

For me, that challenge became powerlifting. It gave me structure, a goal, and a group of mostly like-minded people who thrived on pushing their limits.

Maybe for you, it’s a new sport, a new skill, or a new career path—something that demands your best.

2. Rebuild Your Tribe

Camaraderie is one of the hardest things to replace. You need to find people who get it—whether it’s other veterans, athletes, or a community built around discipline and hard work.

The bond you had in the military won’t be exactly the same, but you can find something close.

3. Redefine Purpose

Your purpose didn’t end when you left the military. It just changed.

Maybe it’s leading by example for your family. Maybe it’s mentoring others. Maybe it’s building something new.

The mission isn’t over—it’s just different.

4. Control the Narrative

It’s easy to fall into the trap of seeing yourself as just a veteran instead of someone with a wealth of experience and skills.

The way you talk about your past shapes how you see your future. Instead of saying, I used to be this, shift to I am becoming this.

5. Embrace the Suck (Again)

The transition isn’t easy. It’s going to be uncomfortable. But you’ve already been through worse.

This is just another mission—one that takes time, effort, and a clear objective.

The Next Chapter Is Yours to Write

That time in your life was important, but it wasn’t your whole story.

Now, it’s about:
✅ Finding a new way to challenge yourself
✅ A new way to contribute
✅ A new way to push forward

The mission isn’t over—it’s just changed.

If you're looking for a strength coach to help you get back into sports or training after leaving the military, consider booking a call with me or one of our coaches at www.masterathletic.com.

We understand the challenges of transitioning out of the military, and we’ll support you in developing a training plan that helps you reach your goals with confidence.

Reach out, and let's get you back to your best!

Nat Galloway
Coach, Master Athletic Performance